Keeping Indie Weird

Welcome to the second installment of "The Out Door", our monthly column in which staffers Marc Masters and Grayson Currin attempt to connect some of the outliers-- records and artists that don't always fall within the general indie purview-- to what else you might be hearing. This time around, we explore the underground worlds of noise-rock, sound art, and improvisation. We offer an extended conversation with Chicago noise/metal alchemists Locrian; a video podcast with words and sounds from Baltimore laptop collagist Jason Urick; and a wide-ranging chat with veteran composer, improviser, and collaborator Zeena Parkins. And we kick things off with musings on the massive annual festival South By Southwest, and the way outsider music has become part of its lifeblood.

Keeping Austin-- and Indie-- Weird

I saw a documentary on the making of Stanley Kubrick's 2001 where an interviewer put a question to scientist and futurist Ray Kurzweil: Should we be scared by the prospect of machines infiltrating our lives? Kurzweil's response was simple-- they already have. Computers, machines, and tons of other technology are integral parts of everyday existence. What's really scary, he said, is what could happen if they were taken away.

That idea came to mind during this year's South By Southwest festival in Austin, especially when friends would ask me, "Is there enough stuff playing there that you're interested in?" The implication was that SXSW is strictly a music-biz convention for established bands or bands looking to get noticed, not a forum for experimental artists who care little about industry attention. My response reflected Kurzweil's-- not only are there enough fringe, experimental, and avant-garde bands at SXSW to keep me involved, but I can't imagine what the festival would look like without them.

For me, SXSW has become a dependable way to catch experimental acts I can't see otherwise. This year alone, I saw L.A. duo Moment Trigger pound out harsh noise in the backlot of Domy Bookstore; witnessed the relentless drone of Infinite Body at downtown club Barbarella; and gawked at UK punk vets Todd splattering the dingy floor of Club 1808. And that's just the far-fringe-- there were also loads of great sets by accessible bands with no mainstream aspirations, from Cleveland punks This Moment in Black History and Indiana post-punk creepers TV Ghost to Austin genre-straddlers Weird Weeds. Some of these shows happened on the outskirts of town, but most of them were within spitting distance of the biggest, most attention-hungry acts. (Even the far-flung shows, like the unannounced ones held after hours on a far-off bridge, attracted acts as small as Philly feedback-mongers Home Blitz and as big as UK ad-soundtrackers the xx). Just the fact that the excellent fringe-dwelling L.A. label Not Not Fun gets an official showcase makes SXSW one of the best underground festivals in the world.

I'm sure innumerable bands and labels get frustrated with the process of trying to get a showcase or even a non-official slot, or traveling so far to play so briefly in the middle of all the activity. But the ultimate point is that SXSW couldn't survive without the underground, and really, neither could the overground itself. Boundaries don't exist if there's nothing outside them. That is, pop music depends on all the other types of music that gnaw at its fringes.

I don't mean that the underground serves as a minor-league farm system for pop-- though it's great when a band like Animal Collective organically rises from subterranean depths into something popular. What I mean is that, of all the music being made in the world, very little is well known. Compare the volume of what's big to what isn't, and pop becomes its own niche. Even more importantly, music outside the mainstream is rarely made with intent to profit. It's far less susceptible to economic swings, technological changes or fickle audiences. It's made by people who lose money driving from California to Austin because they'd rather make what sounds good to them than what will buy them a plane ticket. Take away that part of music, and music itself would be pretty small. My guess is it wouldn't even exist.

There are many lines dividing all kinds of bands-- popularity, sound, presentation, social circles, critical acclaim, and so forth. And those lines aren't all bad. When I'm in the mood to see, say, Prurient, I'd rather go to No Fun Fest and see other like-minded artists than sit through a few rock bands I probably won't like.

But it's easy to forget that all the names and classifications, and the lines that supposedly separate them, are purely mental constructs. They don't actually exist, and lots of people don't care about them. Fans may be able to tell a noise band from a pop one, but that doesn't keep them from enjoying the mighty din of Talk Normal while waiting for the Dum Dum Girls to play on the other side of an Austin field. It doesn't keep them from noticing the Mantles' noisy take on the Byrds before standing in line to see Hole. It doesn't keep people awaiting rising star Best Coast from digging the hardcore rants of label-mates Total Abuse. Whatever you can say about the behemoth that is SXSW, it still reminds us that all these lines are as muddy and porous as the fan-trampled Texas terrain. -- Marc Masters